This Poor Youngling
by Black Hawk
Summary: During an Orc attack, Thranduil and his wife find their baby missing. How will the young prince survive?
1. Chapter I

**_This is a revised post of my original. Hopefully it is now a stronger tale._**

**_Disclaimer_**: _The Lord of the Rings_ belongs to J.R.R Tolkien, Peter Jackson, New Line Cinema and their associates. I am making no money from this; it is just a wonderful way for me to write for an audience with room for me to improve upon my skills/technique through their comments and criticisms.

**_Author's Note:_** As any of you who have read _An Elf's Fall_ know, I am no expert on Middle Earth. Any correction you have to offer will be appreciated.

I wrote this tale around this time last year while I was serving jury duty, so in short little breaks, lol.I got the idea while listening to Loreena McKennitt's two winter albums _To Drive the Cold Winter Away_ and _A Winter Garden_. They're so wonderful! Anyway, it's a seasonal tale that I wanted to share with you all! It doesn't really have to do with Christmas but if you know the songs quoted, well, you'll get the allusions. ;o) Please enjoy and review!

**_This Poor Youngling_**

**_Chapter I: _**

Horse hooves echoed like thunder as the grey stallion galloped over the sodden turf, driven by his master's panic. "Meneliel! Meneliel!" The fair-haired Elven king let the name rip from his throat as he agilely guided his steed through the trees and straggling weary warriors as he searched for his queen. "Meneliel!" he pulled his mount to a stop as his keen Elven hearing picked up a male's shout over to the left in the distance. He knew that voice. "Húheron?!"

"My Lord! She is over here!"

Not hesitating a moment, Thranduil yanked the reins of his stallion's bridletowars the voicedirection as he spurred the somewhat frightened horse onwards. As soon as he could see the elegant gown of his wife through the trees he lost all sense of or care for regality and flung himself from his steed and into her arms. Yet if Húheron were asked, he'd respond that the scene was more regal than any he'd seen in his long years of service to the king.

Both Meneliel and Thranduil shed tears of joy as they embraced, then, pulling away, held each other's faces in their hands. "Oh My Love, I was afraid I had lost you," Thranduil's voice was hoarse as he wiped away a tear from his beloved's ageless face with his thumb.

"Even if we no longer inhabited the same earth you would never lose me."

Relief and love shone in the king's eyes at Meneliel's words, her voiceever like a sweet bird's song."And I shall never leave you, _meleth nín_." They touched foreheads for a brief moment before stealing a gentle kiss. Pulling away, Thranduil gazed at his fair wife's face. He fell in love with her all over again every day. She had taught him how to live, she had given him who he was and made him aspire to become a better man, a better king, and most recently, a better father; for they had conceived a child together, one who shone of the beauty of their love and the regality of their people. "Our son must share in this joyous moment! Where is he?"

Thranduil's panic returned as he witnessed Meneliel's eyes grow wide in fear. "Why, he was with Enetheru. My arms were getting tired and she begged me to let her hold him. When we were separated she followed your regiment- I saw her! Where is she?!"

Thranduil's breath came shorter as his apprehension grew. "There were none but men with me… soldiers…" The king paused for a suspenseful moment, his deep eyes darting back and forth, thinking. "By the Valar, they must still be out there somewhere…"

He stood frozen and watched helplessly as Meneliel clasped a hand over her mouth in a silent scream of horror, another around her middle as she slid down to her knees. Thranduil's face grew resolute and within moments he had flung himself back upon his stallion and galloped back towards the scene of the Orc attack.

Meneliel remained where she was, tears refusing to fall, a reluctant Húheron offering a hand of support on her shoulder while he held her horse's reins with the other. Her voice was but a whisper. "The Orcs would have slain them by now…oh my sweet little Legolas…." Then, drawing within from some inner strength, the queen rose to her feet once more. Locking eyes with Húheron, he saw firm resolution, perhaps born of fear but bridled by courage. She took his offered hand off her shoulder and held it in between hers. "_Hannon le_, Húheron."

Before he could shake off his awe of her strength, Meneliel flung herself upon her grey steed that matched her husband's and galloped off after him. Húheron remained where he was, a hopeless romantic to the end in love with the scene before him, yet terribly frightened of the implications. "_Hortho le suil vaer, Hiril nín_, for your babe is a creation of your love and your love inspires us all."

**_Ozzzzzzz⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**

**_Meneliel_** means "Heavenly creature/Messenger" in Sindarin Elvish

**_Enetheru_** means "Name of God, God has heard" in Sindarin Elvish

**_Húheron_** means "wolf-lover" in Sindarin Elvish

**_meleth nín: _**my love in Sindarin

**_Hannon le:_** thank you in Sindarin

**_Hortho le suil vaer:_** "May useful winds speed you on" in Sindarin

**_Hiril nín:_** my lady in Sindarin

**_Ozzzzzzz⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**


	2. Chapter II

**_Chapter II_**

Gnash strode into the woods, clutching the small bundle in his arms almost protectively. _They_ would not have it. He would not share it. It was his. This babe's sweet and tender flesh would make a fine meal indeed. He was salivating in anticipation. When their troop of Orcs had stumbled upon the traveling Elves, Gnash had considered it an unbelievably good turn of fortune. How he _despised_ those beings! At least he would make a delectable meal of one of their precious young.

Just then he heard a bark from behind. It was that bully Sludge. If he caught wind of what Gnash was hiding he'd kill him to eat the babe himself. Best hide it somewhere and distract that clumsy Sludge until he could be alone with his morsel. Oh, how he would enjoy it!

"What do you have there, Gnash?!"

Too late. Sludge had already spied that he had something. If Gnash was clever enough, he might be able to… yes, that was it. He'd pretend to fall and leave the babe behind while taking the youngling's blanket with him into the woods as a decoy. Sludge would surely follow him and as soon as he was rid of sludge, well, he'd just go back to the child and finally have his feast.

For a beast as clumsy as he, Gnash executed his plan with surprising precision. Pretending to stumble behind a bush, Gnash let the baby go, snatching instead the child's blanket before racing off into the woods, Sludge bellowing and chasing him the whole time.

The young prince, not yet able to walk and beginning to feel the damp cold without his blanket, began to cry. Little did the child know, there was no one to hear.

For hours he laid alone, the heat slowly draining from his small body. Eventually, with the changing day, the sun found its way through the thick trees and lighted upon the little form, offering weak warmth.

Svanhild and her four fellow priestesses picked berries as quickly as they could. There were Orcs in these woods and they certainly didn't want to get caught by them. With all of the weeping women fleeing to the priestesses' temple these days they needed more food than they had; otherwise they would not have normally ventured so far into the forest. They spoke in mere whispers and picked rapidly, always keeping an ear out for an approaching enemy.

It was then that she thought she heard a child's laugh. Impossible. There hadn't been children in this part of the fallen kingdom in over a year – Herod had made sure of that. Then there is was again, and this time one of her companions stopped picking and listened as well.

"Did you hear that?" Wealtheow asked.

Without answering, Svanhild dropped her basket and gathered up her gowns and cloak, running towards the source of the sound. The others looked up, alarmed. "What is it?" one of the now wide-eyed priestesses asked.

"A child," Wealtheow breathlessly replied, a light flickering in her eyes before following her fellow priestess further into the woods. The other two stared at each other for a moment before setting down their baskets, looking about cautiously and then following stealthily after Wealtheow and Svanhild, their dark green hooded cloaks billowing out slightly behind them.

When Svanhild arrived in a small glen she clasped a hand over her mouth as she froze, for there in the distance, nestled in the pale shafts of sunlight and wriggling around playfully was a healthy baby.

The other three caught up and flanked Svanhild, each not believing what she looked upon. Finally, Wealtheow cocked her head, her breath and voice shaky as she spoke in amazement. "What baby is that, sweet golden hair?"

The others continued to stare. Svanhild shook off her surprise and a wise smile graced her kind face. She stepped forward, tentative at first as if fearing a trap of some sort. When she was close enough she locked gazes with the baby for a moment and did not notice the tears of wonder that came to her eyes. A more beautiful child she had never seen. It was true that the sight of any baby so young was welcome in these dark days of child-death, but she could have sworn that she saw the baby smile back at her. as it kicked its feet in excitement.

Carefully, she scooped the diaper-clad infant in her arms, laughing silently as he immediately reacted to her presence by grabbing a hold of her gowns with tiny fists. How long had the child been out here on its own? But there was something oddly ancient about this child; some greater wisdom glowed inside. Gently brushing back the babe's fluffy blond hair she revealed a slightly pointed ear. She should have known from those eyes that this was no human babe… She then turned to the others, a heartfelt smile upon her face. "Sisters, this be an Elven child, a gift from the spirits of the woods just as the Elves were a gift toArda of old."

While the other two came forward and crowded around to see the beautiful baby themselves, Ranveig stayed off to the side by herself. After some time had passed she spoke. "We must leave it here."

The other priestesses gave her perfectly horrified glances.

"You know well of what I speak." When the others did not respond she pulled back her cloak hood to reveal her cropped hair. "_I_ know well of what I speak. My child was one of the first slain. Do you wish the same fate upon one not even of our kingdom?"

"Ranveig, if this babe is not from our kingdom then our laws cannot possibly apply to it," Svanhild was smiling as the young prince held one of her fingers in his tiny grasp and the other two priestesses giggled quietly at the youngling's playfulness.

"Regardless of where he's from he's in our kingdom now. If he is discovered he shall be slain like the others… like my son."

Svanhild looked up, her face now fierce. "That is a man's law. Herod has no sway with us. We are daughters of the forests and river valleys. We follow a more ancient law, one laid before us by the gods of old when Elves like this child still graced these forests. We follow the code of the land."

"But Herod is king and he has ordered all children slain. The gods may help us in the next life but certainly not in this. In this life the word of the king is the word of the gods."

"Herod's laws do not take precedence over the sacred, Ranveig. You know this. Children should never be harmed- any fool could tell you that. They are a gift from the heavens themselves. Herod only has power so long as you let him for in the end his words are just words and he knows it. _We_ hold the power; we are the people that hold him up upon his throne. Without his people he shall fall. He only rules over us so long as we consent to it.

Herod is not my king. I answer only to the will of the gods and they have laid this path before me."

Ranveig took a deep breath and looked away, unable to hold Svanhild's gaze any longer. She saw the truth in her fellow priestess' words, and the wisdom. Yet it was not enough to erase her upbringing under a tyrant, though he be the reason her hair was cropped short in mourning. Truth be told, she had only come to the temple a year and a half ago after Herod's men had burst into her home in search of her child, killing her protesting husband in the process then eventually slaying her yearling son. Her story was just one of hundreds. With nowhere to go and no one to turn to she had fled into the woods seeking refuge with the temple priestesses like so many other women.

The babe in Svanhild's arms sneezed, drawing Ranveig's attention. Looking back over to Ranveig, Svanhild stepped forward. As soon as Ranveig saw what Svanhild was doing her eyes widened- she was placing the baby in her arms!

"Shhh, there, there," Svanhild soothed as the now sleepy child began to fuss as he was placed into Ranveig's somewhat stiff arms. It was all she needed, though, to look into that bright baby's eyes to melt her heart. She immediately relaxed and felt tears of remembrance begin to form in her eyes. "I only meant it for the child's own good…"

Svanhild looked at her wisely. "I know."

Ranveig smiled as the baby made a gurgling sound and took hold of her offered finger. Her words were almost inaudible, spoken only to herself. "My Faste used to do that…" She gazed at the princeling in her arms a few moments more before shaking out of a dream and looking back to the other priestesses. "What will we do with an Elven child? I'm sure a babe as young as this will have many out searching."

"The Elves are skilled people of the woods. They will find our dwelling by following our tracks from this place. Until then we must care for it as our own. Mayhaps it was meant for us. The gods work in mysterious ways, after all."

Returning to the berry bushes and wrapping the now grumpy baby in her cloak, Svanhild and the other women gathered up their baskets and began their silent trek home.

**_Ozzzzzzz⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**

**_Svanhild_** is a Norse female name meaning "swan, warrior"

**_Ranveig_** is a Norse female name meaning "house-woman"

**_Wealtheow_**, of course, if the name of Hrothgar's queen in the Scandinavian epic _Beowulf_.

**_Faste_** is a Norse male name meaning "firm."

**_Please review! :oD!_**

**_Review Responses:_**

**_Luntetuurewen_**: Thanks for your review, sweetie! Here I am updating one day after my first post (this is a big deal to me, LOL!) so I hope it's fast enough for you. Thanks so much for being the first to review! :oD

**_Freak Moister:_** Yay! I'm glad that you like it so far! :oD Oh you poor dear, you don't really mean that people don't give you encouragement, do you? Well, here I am thanking you for your encouragement and giving you encouragement back to continue to read and analyze this story, if it so pleases you. LOL. I hope to hear from you again soon! :oD

**_Pris:_** How are you my dear? Thank you so much for the lovely review! I hope you enjoy this next chapter. Sorry the last was so short! Be sure to review to tell me what you think if the story now with this new chapter! Thanks again, sweetie! :oD


	3. Chapter III

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**_Chapter III_**

"Sire! Over here, Sire!" an Elven warrior's call drew the attention of the king away from his wife who was tending to an unconscious Enetheru. "My king! I have found the prince's blanket!"

Not missing a beat, Thranduil raced into the woods towards the cry of the warrior. When he reached the Elven man he froze in disgust at the scene before him. Two Orcs lay dead, killed by each other's swords. Next to one of them lay his child's blanket. Moving slowly, Thranduil picked up the embroidered piece of cloth and ran his thumb over the royal coat of arms upon it, lost in a dream-like state. His son, his only child, his baby boy was gone… he had to be…No. He could not be. He was strong like his mother, he must have survived.

"My Lord, the tracks come from this direction. Shall we follow them?"

Thranduil finally looked up at the Elven soldier. "Yes, but, wait... no. We shall wait for the queen, and then we shall follow them. Please, go and bring her here."

The soldier trotted off to where Meneliel kneeled; now gently speaking to a conscious Enetheru. "It's alright, it was not your fault."

"But My Lady, I have failed you," the maiden's voice was weak.

Meneliel smiled sweetly. "Of course you haven't. No one knew those Orcs were going to attack. You did your best. We will find the prince. You just get some rest now." A healer began to dab at the wound to Enetheru's temple.

"My Lady, I am so sorry. He was such a good baby…" Enetheru was being pulled into the land of sleep quickly now.

Meneliel almost burst into tears. "He was a good baby… he _is_ a good baby and I shall find him."

"My Lady!"

Meneliel jerked her head up and away from the now sleeping form of Enetheru to face the soldier who had addressed her.

"The king and I have discovered some tracks; we wait only for you to follow them."

Without even responding, Meneliel lifted the hem of her dress as she leapt to her feet, racing off out of the glade and into the woods where she knew her husband to be. She would find her baby. She had to find her baby, for she could not live without him.

Svanhild looked out of the temple window at the darkening skies of night. Thank the gods they had found the child when they did, the thought of him being out there alone…

She turned her attention back towards the more lively goings-on inside the temple as she heard the baby boy giggle once more. The women of the place were all crowded around, the evening meal long forgotten as they all vied for attention from the child. Gudrid, an elderly woman who had raised many orphaned children in her time and was a leader among the priestesses, had even made the baby belly-laugh on a few occasions, causing joy among the women. "You are like a shining star, little child of the woods," Gudrid was saying, her wrinkled an weathered face creased in smile.

"He's our little bright one," Ranveig grinned from her resting place in the corner of the room.

Gudrid smiled over at the new priestess. "We shall call him Delling, shining, for he is our shining one. He has brought hope where it seemed lost." As if understanding, the young prince blew a raspberry with his tongue in between his lips, causing Gudrid and the others to laugh.

"Then he truly must be a gift from the gods, Svanhild," Ranveig looked over at her fellow priestess who smiled back hopefully. "A gift from the heavens."

One of the other priestess had begun to play a tune on her harp. While the music fell into the background for most, Ranveig listened carefully and reflectively. When the tune began anew her haunting voice filled the air and echoed off of the stone walls of the temple, causing all conversation to cease and all ears to turn to her.

"Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child  
By by, lully, lullay, thou little tiny child  
By by, lully lullay

O sisters too, how may we do  
For to preserve this day  
This poor youngling  
For whom we do sing  
By by, lully lullay?

Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child  
By by, lully, lullay

Herod, the king  
In his raging  
Chargèd he hath this day  
His men of might  
In his own sight,  
All young children to slay

Lully, thou little tiny child  
By by, lully, lullay

That woe is me  
Poor child for thee!  
And every morn and day,  
For thy parting  
Neither say nor sing  
By by, lully lullay!

Lully, lulla, thou little tiny child  
By by, lully, lullay."

When her song ended, a profound silence remained. They all knew what the consequences would be if any in Herod's service discovered the child. He would be slain and they would be lucky if all of them escaped with their lives as well, yet every one of them was willing to risk it.

**_Ozzzzzzz⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**

**_Gudrid_** is a Norse female name meaning "divinely inspired wisdom."

**_Delling_** is a Norse male name meaning "shining"

(Sources: same as last chapter)

Lyrics are from **_COVENTRY CAROL_**  
_Words from the Pageant of the Shearmen and Tailors (15th cent). Music traditional, arranged and adapted by Loreena McKennitt_

_You can hear the beginning of it here: . quinlanroad. com/mp3s/ coventry.mp3 (Without the spaces though, of course, I had to put those in to disguise it as an address, LOL)._

**_Please review- reviews make nice gifts for fic writers! ;o) hint, hint! Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays! :oD I love you all and stay safe! :oD_**

**_Kitsune: Thank you so MUCH for your honest and constructive review! It really means a lot to me that you took the time to be analytic and were brave enough to tell me what wasn't working! The "shallowness" of this fic is something that I'm aware of by now, however with so many other fics in the works it's not something that I'm too worried about. Thank you, mellon-nïn, and please, enjoy the rest of the tale! :oD Merry Christmas!_**

**_Luntetuurewen: LOL! Aren't babies the sweetest? LOL. Thanks so much for your continued support, it really means a lot to me! I hope you enjoy this fic, and thanks again a million times for being understanding about the updating! :oD Merry Christmas, sweetie!_**


	4. Chapter IV

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**_Chapter IV_**

"Gudirid! Gudirid!"

The elderly woman looked up from her reading. It was one of those nights when she couldn't sleep because of her aches and pains as her body began to betray her to age- however she also had many things on her mind with the presence of an Elven baby in the temple.

The frantic face of a young priestess appeared in her doorway and upon seeing the quiver on the girl's back and the bow in her hand, Gudrid knew her to be one of the watchwomen. "What is it, child?"

"There are riders approaching at great speed- soldiers are with them!"

Gudrid hurriedly set down the book she was reading. "Herod's men?" She tried to keep the fear from her voice. How could Herod have found out?!

"I could not tell, My Lady. But there were several of them coming here with great purpose in their steeds' strides."

Gudrid pulled on her cloak and followed the young woman out into the cold of night. By now the riders were near. Gudrid could see weapons and armor glinting in the moonlight and feared for the worst. "Run child, wake the others; get Delling out of here!" The young woman hesitated only a second before scampering off to do as she was told.

A minute later Svanhild was at her side, also pulling on her robe. "What's going on, My Lady? Are they Herod's men? Then they shall have a fight upon their hands." Without waiting for a response she dashed off to the armory.

Gudrid, however, stared into the distance watching the riders as they approached almost in a trance. These were no soldiers of Herod. They rode with skill and prowess but not menace. By the time the group of riders pulled up in front of the torch-lit temple, Gudrid was surrounded by women bearing bows, swords and a few spears. The lead rider gracefully slid off their horse and stepped forward. Svanhild stared at the other mounted warriors, wonder in her eyes. She'd never seen a people like this before…

As the figure approached Gudrid it pulled the hood off of its light blue-silver cloak to reveal the bright face of a regal lady. Any doubts the priestesses had had were then assuaged. These were no servants of Herod. A few even lowered their weapons.

"I am Meneliel, queen of the woodland realm. My husband and I are searching for our young son whom was lost to us not long ago. We have followed your tracks to this place, sister. Please, tell me you have him and that he is not harmed." The queen's voice was soft yet firm and seemed to fall like golden autumn leaves from the trees.

Gudrid bowed her head slightly. "My Lady, forgive me, we did not know who approached."

Seeing their leader offer this sign of humility, the other priestesses looked to their second in command, Svanhild. "Put down your weapons!" Svanhild hissed before falling upon one knee before the queen. The others did as she asked. Except for one.

By now, Thranduil had also dismounted and stood beside his queen. Noting the tears forming in her eyes, he followed her gaze back behind the priestesses to one who still stood, holding a small bundle in her arms. She stepped forward and Meneliel could see that the middle-aged woman had tears in her eyes as well.

"You must be his mother, then?"

Meneliel bit back a sob as she dipped her head.

"He brought great joy to us. He was our Delling, our shining one. We have known so much despair that at first I did not want to trust hope. I see now that we were selfish in believing that we could keep such a beautiful thing to ourselves. Many of us here have lost our own sons and daughters and he brought us great joy. You must miss him terribly." She stepped forward, unaware that many of the other kneeling priestesses were also holding back tears. She looked fondly at the baby one last time and gave him a small kiss on the forehead before gently and carefully handing him over to the grateful arms of Meneliel. The queen could hold back her tears of joy no longer and wept at the sight of her prince, healthy and alive.

She looked up to Ranveig. "I could never thank you enough."

Ranveig smiled wistfully. "Just being able to hold him was more than you could ever give."

Meneliel smiled back at the pain-filled woman empathetically. She'd heard tales of horror and woe from this land but she had never believed that they could be true. Never until tonight, that is.

Thranduil lifted a commanding hand. "Húheron!"

"My Lord?"

"My sword."

Obeying his commander and king, Húheron brought forth Thranduil's sword. While it was one rarely used in battle and more for show, it was still one of the king's most prized possessions and yet a small price to pay as a reward for his son's well-being. He stepped forward to Ranveig. "Please, take this as a token of our gratitude."

Ranveig's eyes widened at the sight of the elegantly gilded metal. "My Lord, I could never accept such a gift."

"Keep it here in your temple so that all may know that you are an Elf-friend and under the protection of the king of the Woodland Realm."

Ranveig took the heavy weapon in her hands and bowed low in humility.

Meneliel smiled at the now rising priestesses. "_Hannon le. Harthon gerithach raid gelin a chwest adel thraw lín. Iaurel, naver._"

Thranduil stepped forward and placed his hand on Ranveig's shoulder. "_Mae carnen, thaliel nín. Hannon le_."

With that the king and queen mounted once more. "May you always be welcome in my court," Thranduil addressed the priestesses. "May the Valar bless you all!"

As the group rode off, Ranveig and Svanhild leaned on each other for support. Svanhild's voice was distant. "He truly was a gift from the gods."

**_Ozzzzzzz⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**

**_Hannon le. Harthon gerithach raid gelin a chwest adel thraw lín. Iaurel, naver. _**Thank you. I hope you will have green paths and a breeze behind your body. Ancient ones, farewell.

**_Mae carnen thaliel nín. Hannon le _**Well done my champion. Thank you.

**_Please review! :oD _**

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_**Kitsune: **Thank you so much for the compliments and encouragement! They really are a large portion of what keeps me going! I'm so glad that you appreciate the "originality" of this tale- I wasn't quite sure how people were going to take it. Hannon le, mellon-nïn! :oD_

**_Autore: _**_Yes! Merry Christmas to you, too, although it is by now long overdue! LOL. I celebrate Santa Clause, there's my beliefs for ya. ;o) Thank you so much! :oD _

**_Wilwarin: _**_Yay! I'm so happy that you're enjoying the tale! And that you appreciate the names! LOL. I guess I'm into that. I figure if you're gonna name a character you might as well give it meaning. ;o) I'm so glad that you appreciate that- and that you enjoyed the "__Coventry__ Carol" bit! Isn't it lovely? ;o) Thanks again, my wise friend! :oD_

**_I-Like-Chickens: _**_Hey, whaddya know, I like chickens, too! ;Op Have 7 of them at home if I do say so myself. ;o) I'm so glad that you're liking this and hope that you'll continue reading! :oD_

**_Silver Thorne: _**_Mellon-nïn, mellon-nïn! It is so wonderful to hear from you! I'm so happy that you like this story, mellon! I hope you enjoy this chapter and, as always, I eagerly await an update from you! **For all of you who have not yet read Silver Thorne's work, do so now! LOL! It's BRILLIANT! :oD**_

**_Wintersong: _**_How are you one-with-a-lovely-name?! ;o) I'm so glad that you are enjoying this winter tale and that you stopped by to tell me so! Thank you so much. Please, tell me what you think of this latest addition as well, will you, mellon? ;o)_


	5. Chapter V

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**_Chapter V_**

The lace-like shadows of the leaves breathed with the breeze and shifted and sighed upon the soft green grass of the woodland meadow. The soft hum of the springtime insects and the babbling of a small stream in the distance blended melodiously with the cheerful chirps of the small birds flitting about in the sheltering canopy above them. Earth and blossoms, ferns, moss and water filled the fresh, cool spring air as one walked upon the new grass, leaving not a trace of his passing. Radiant sapphire eyes gazed upon the statue resting upon the fountain before him. The sculpture wasn't much- just a scaled down large tree, wisdom emanating from its very branches. Anchored to the base of the statue, running the vertical length of its trunk, was something that caused the young creature to gaze in wonder.

Yet as he allowed his eyes to travel its length and drink in its perfections he was unaware that he, too, had eyes doing the very same to him. He stepped forward slightly into the sun that filled the center of the glen where the sculpture and fountain were nestled in the fresh spring grass. As he moved, the sunlight caught in his fair hair and glimmered happily as if it had found a friend. His bright face was tilted slightly upward to better see the object that caught his attention and stirred such wonder within him. So this was what his parents had wanted him to come and see… He tentatively reached out a hand to touch it.

"You… you cannot be real…" a voice breathed causing the startled young prince to jump slightly and pull his hand back away from the sculpture protectively. His eyes darted to where the voice had come from and found a relatively young human woman, a hooded cloak pulled over her head. He sensed no danger from the woman and cocked his head slightly, curious. He was still not fluent in Westron, yet he believed that he had understood the woman correctly.

A moment later she stepped out of the shadows and set aside the unarmed bow that she had carried in a gesture of peace. The prince would have mimicked her action had his bow not been upon his back for the time being. She drew back her hood and the golden-haired one was surprised to see tears glimmering in her brown eyes. She took a few more tentative steps forward, cocking her own head slightly as she looked upon him, still in utter wonder. A long moment later, she blinked and her tears fell elegantly down her slightly rounded cheeks. She dropped to one knee then and placed both hands over her chest then back out to the one who stood before her, as if offering him her heart. The prince immediately recognized this to be a ceremonial greeting and returned the gesture by placing his right hand over his heart and extending it to the woman. He then reached down a hand to help her up.

Her hair was loose and would have fallen upon her shoulders if not hindered by her cloak. Intricate braids seemed to form a looping cap upon her head and a small blue tattoo ran along her left cheekbone. She stared at his hand in wonder for a moment before taking it shakily in hers and rising with the aid of he tall one before her. She continued to gaze at him in wonder. He had the look of a young man whose face was reluctant to entirely give up boyhood yet the air of an adventurer about him. He was beautiful and pure, that much she could tell with little needing to be said. How had she chanced upon such a creature? She had thought that they only lived in tall tales and once-upon-a-time.

"I am Legolas of the Woodland Realm," at least that much he could say in unfaltering Westron.

The woman's eyes widened to hear such a deeply melodious voice waft from the one who stood before her. She almost forgot her name. Suddenly humbled, she dipped he head in humility and spoke somewhat hastily. "Swanlight of the Temple of the Goddess."

When she dared look upon his face once more she was melted by the soft smile she found there. He closed his eyes and inclined his head slightly. "_Glassen an ngovaded le_, Swanlight."

Furrowing her brow, Swanlight fixed him with a curious stare.

The creature before her suddenly looked perplexed and she could see an inner struggle in his eyes. "It is my… joy to meet you," he offered in somewhat halting Westron.

Swanlight smiled. "Forgive me, but when first I looked upon you I believed you a god. But now I see that you are more wondrous than any god of Men. You are one of the Firstborn."

The last sentence she spoke Legolas understood well. He inclined his head, "Yes. I am Elf-kind." He paused for a moment, silently screaming at himself for his panic-induced halting Westron. "And you are a priestess of the Temple?"

She grinned once more and Legolas smiled in return, happy that they at least understood that much about the other. "Do you come to call on us?"

Upon hearing her speak fluently in Westron something began to shift in his brain and the words came more easily to him. "I was told to come here by my mother and father. I had grown restless and my mother told me that there was something I must see in this realm of Men." He let his gaze float now to the glittering sword that stood with the trunk of the tree. He recognized the sword to be one of his father's for the king of Mirkwood had a taste for swords made in similar fashion to this.

Swanlight followed his gaze. "Do you know what this means?" she pointed to the statue and Legolas gazed at her a moment, making sure he understood her words before shaking his head no. Swanlight raised her eyebrows momentarily as she gazed up at the sculpture, taking in the sights and sounds of the glade before she began her tale. "Long ago, it is said, a terrible king ruled the land. Herod was his name, and in his corrupt madness he ordered all children slain. Some said that he feared the prophecy that one day a child would cause his people to rise up against him and his cruelty.

"The land suffered greatly. Many women came here to the Temple to live out their days in grief and sorrow at losing their children. It was then that a group of priestesses found this glen, and in it was a small fair-haired child bathed in sunlight at the foot of a tree such as this," she moved her hand to gesture to the statue. "The women took the child to the Temple with them and intended to raise him as their own. He brought them great joy and spirit once more. Those who thought that they would never embrace life again found new meaning.

"Then one night a radiant queen and her beautiful husband came to claim the child as their own. They took him with them to their distant land, but left behind this as a gift to the Temple," she gently touched the sheathed sword. "We celebrate the finding of the child on that cold winter day every year in song."

She watched Legolas' face, hoping that he understood all that she had said. He gazed at the tree and sword in wonder, looking younger than his height suggested. She smiled. "And do you know what?"

His intent face turned to her once more, his full attention given to her. "The child was no human. He was an Elven child."

As she waited for his response, Legolas furrowed his brow slightly and looked up at the statue before him. "That is one of my father's blades," he reluctantly spoke quietly.

Swanlight's mouth fell slightly agape and her eyes darted from the sword to the Elf before her. "If that is so then you are the child… you were the baby…" her eyes were wide in shock and wonder.

Legolas moved slowly, as if afraid to look upon her as he turned his gaze to Swanlight once more. "What happened to the children?"

Swanlight couldn't yet shake off her shock but found within her the resolve to answer his quietly voiced question. "They… she… a priestess named Svanhild took up arms. She and many other priestesses began a revolt against Herod. The people were furious- they won against their king. The prophecy came true, for you see, the child had inspired the priestesses to stage the revolt in the first place. In attempting to avoid his fate Herod stepped right into it." She paused, searching the Elf's face. She smiled. "It was you- it is you we have to thank for the freedom of our ancestors… for our births."

Legolas looked bashful and he desperately searched for the words in Westron to explain his Elvish thoughts that he deserved no thanks and that this Svanhild did.

Swanlight placed her hand upon his arm and smiled adoringly and wondrously at him. He knew that he didn't have to say anything. She was living history. She was seeing one from the legends of her people. His awkwardness melted away and he was calm. He now knew why his parents had sent him here. He knew now why there was and always would be hope in the world of Men, for they contained that hope within themselves.

The Beginning

**_Ozzzzzzz_****_⌠_****_∑:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::: _**

**_"Swanlight" is just a name that I made up. After going through so many Viking names I decided that I had the 'authority' to make up one of my own. ;o)_**

**_A/N: So, what did you all think? Worthless? Too AU? I'd love to hear your thoughts. There are so few WOMEN in LOTR that I just had to write a Middle-earth tale full of them. ;o) Plus, as I'm sure you could tell, I was searching for an outlet to showcase the lovely "_****_Coventry_****_ Carol." ;o) _**

**_While this story certainly has elements that are similar to the tale of the first Christmas, please understand that I am in no way attempting to push that story upon anyone! In fact, there are MANY tales of abandoned children being taken in by others from all over the world- look at the tale of Prince Paris of _****_Troy_****_! ;o) Yet it being the holiday season and all, I decided to stick a Christmas carol in there. I hope you all enjoyed and would love to hear from you! :oD!_**

**_Review Responses:_**

**_Wilwarin: Awww, thanks so much for your review. I'm SO glad that you're enjoying this story and hope that you find this last chapter satisfying! 'Coventry Carol' is lovely, isn't it? :o) I'd love to hear you sing it sometime! The only version I've ever heard is Loreena McKennitt's and I'm sure yours is lovely! :o)._**

**_I-Like-Chickens:_****_ Here's your new chapter sweetie! Now you have to update your fic again! LOL! I'm so glad that you like this. Thanks a million! :oD!_**


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